


In A Word

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first Homestuck fic, so it's a little weird? But I enjoyed writing it. Takes place pre-Hivebent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Word

Vriska Serket is, in a word, _bold._

This does not bother Equius; it is her _right_ as a blueblood, a blue almost as dark and pure as his own, to belittle the lesser bloods. He just wishes she wasn't quite so crass about it.

“So then the brownblood started _crying_ ,” she shrieks gleefully, and Equius nods as neutrally as he can, eyes and hands focused on his latest robotic project. He does not need to ask which brownblood began to sob; it's always the same one.

Her obsession with him is downright _depraved_.

He says nothing about it; he just begins to sweat.

She toes him and he looks up. She smirks, baring those beautifully sharp fangs. “So... about FLARPing...”

“No,” he responds bluntly. He doesn't mean to be so rude, but he can only reject the idea so many times. Roleplaying is just so childish.

She frowns. “But Equius,” she whines, the kind of whine one makes when one wants to sound _especially_ pathetic and desperate. “You and I? We'd be amazing out there.”

“I do not doubt it,” he replies. He places his ratchet down. “But the answer is still no.”

She kicks his shin; he barely feels it. “Augh, fiiiiiiiine, be that way,” she snaps, jumping off of his desk ( _finally_ , her perched up there like some sort of all seeing vulture made him... nervous). “Forget I even asked.”

He doesn't.

\---

Equius is not sure how to respond to this uppity little greenblood who keeps pestering him on Trollian. At first he considers not responding, but that would be especially rude of him. That is not how someone of his stature should act. There are social etiquettes that must be followed.

When you are greeted amiably, respond in kind.

So he does, albeit in short, blunt responses. He hopes she gets the hint that he does not wish to converse with her.

She doesn't.

Her name is Nepeta Leijon and she is, in a word, _enthusiastic._ She tells him tales about her adventures in hunting. He is repulsed when she tells him she uses her teeth and claws to bring down her prey; he is intrigued when she says she uses all of the animals parts-- from the bones to the fur-- and does not waste them.

It seems rather noble.

He thinks that, for a lowblood, she might not be so bad.

\---

“So, what's with the greenblood?”

Equius knew this day was coming. Vriska stares at him, her expression impossible to read even after all these sweeps.

He feels he needs a towel. She obliges, still demanding an answer.

Equius paces the room, eyeing the collection of dice she leaves lying on her desk. He does not dare touch them, or nudge them in any way (that would be _rude_ , no one likes it when their personal belongings are moved without permission). He spots the twenty sided die he carved for her out of solid iron and steel. He spent weeks on it, making sure it was perfectly balanced for fair rolls. He gave it to her for her fifth wriggling day; she didn't give him so much as a _thank you_.

He didn't expect one.

She notices him staring and picks it up. “If I roll a 20, you tell me what's going on.”

“I have every intention of telling you,” he responds curtly.

She drops the die anyway. Its heft nearly dents her desk.

“Well, now you have to.”

She's right; she rolled a 20. She always had the best luck.

He is hesitant.

“Fine, don't tell me,” she snaps, interrupting him before he could bring himself to say it. “Just go. You're getting sweat all over my stuff.” She leans against her desk with a scowl and he nods, taking his leave.

They both know what's coming; Vriska just doesn't want to hear it.

\---

“Meowrails,” Nepeta gasps, looking udderly ( _utterly_ ) pleased with herself. “Really, Equius?”

“Yes,” he responds. “I would never ask if I wasn't entirely sure.”

She grins her feline grin. “Of course. I know! I am just so excited!” She throws her arms around his neck, ignoring how damp and unpleasant his skin must be. She doesn't care.

She's perfect ( _purrfect_ ) for him, he knows it, she knows it.

 _She_ knows it.

\---

“So, Nepeta,” Vriska smirks, eyeing the greenblood up and down. Nepeta doesn't know what to think of Vriskers. She makes her nervous.

Nepeta fidgets. Vriska stares her down with those _eight_ pupils of hers, unblinking, _mrrrrr just say what you want to say Vriskers!!_

“...moiraillegience, huh?” Vriska muses, leaning against the railing outside of her lavish castle like hive. The wind whips her hair around; Nepeta sort of wants to bat at it, but she's too scared to move. “You know, I asked him once.”

Nepeta blinks. “Huh?”

“I did,” Vriska repeats. “He said no. I think he knew there was no benefit for him in it.” She smiles at Nepeta, and it seems genuine.

That makes Nepeta even more nervous, somehow.

She waits for Vriska to continue, but it appears that she is done. There is nothing else to say. Nepeta backs up, sensing an opportunity to leave. She takes it, scampering off towards Equius' hive.

\---

Equius half expects Vriska to feed Nepeta to her beastly lusus, but she does not. She is not _pleasant_ towards her, but she's not _unpleasant_ , either. It is as if their stars never cross, like they exist in separate worlds.

When the redblood cordially invites Nepeta to their FLARP sessions, Vriska insists that Nepeta not play; she says vicious things about Nepeta, makes excuses for her exclusion, belittles her openly. Terezi and Aradia don't get it; Aradia invites Tavros instead.

Nepeta laments about it, whines, cries, calls Vriskers every cruel name she could think of, but Equius just sits at his desk and smiles as Nepeta vents.

Equius is, in a word, _relieved_. 


End file.
